Odds and Ends
by FrostShadowStar
Summary: Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. It's roll of the dice really. Or. A collection of Ducktales relalated drabbles that are too short to be posted on their own.
1. Stories

Some nights, the boys don't want to hear a tired and worn out fairy tale.

They want to hear something adventurous. With daring heroes who always get the treasure and just barely get away.

At first, he doesn't want to share those sorts of stories. If they want tales of adventures and daring do, they can just go to the library and check those books out. Read those sorts of stories by themselves.

So he doesn't have to hear them. Remember.

But, after awhile, he changes his mind. He remembers when he and Della were younger and how much they loved hearing their uncle retell his adventures.

Besides, what would he tell his sister when she came back; that he never shared that aspect of her life with her kids? Treasure hunting was as integral to her as flying. She wouldn't quite be Della Duck if she didn't have a love of adventure.

And...he would be lying if he said a part of him didn't miss it as well. The good parts of it anyway...

So, he tells them.

He tells them tales of far off lands with dozens of traps and spectacular treasures. Of close calls and successful grabs. Of two ducks who both believed that together, they could take on the world and discover all of its' secrets.

He never tells them who exactly those twin adventurers are. He's not ready to relive those days just quite yet. Instead he uses other names. And while he knows Della would be disappointed he's (still) hiding a part of her life from her boys, he finds he can't. He just can't.

Saying her name aloud still hurts. Thinking about her hurts. Remembering all their adventures, _**hurts**_.

Distancing himself from that pain by pretending two other ducks took on the world helps.

And, as he watches his nephews eyes' light up as he weaves his memories into bedtime stories, he can't help but hope, as selfish as it is, that they'll grow up thinking them fake.

Something he made up for them to fall asleep to

Because if his nephews think of them as just stories, then maybe they'll just be that.

Stories.


	2. New Look, Same Gander

Inspired by this absolute work of art: glxdstones tumblr com/post/168913076307/you-take-that-back by Glxdstones on tumblr.

Chapter Text

"Tell me you don't mean that!"

"Yes. I do! You're new 'do makes you look like a dinosaur! What was wrong with the old one?!"

Gladstone sighed as he dramatically flopped into a nearby chair.

"That's just it D-Money. It was _old_. How many ducks or geese do you see waltzing around with _curls_?"

"I don't know. Half the town?"

"Wrong!" Gladstone wailed. "No one's had curls for _ages_. I looked like I was from the forties Don, _**the forties**_!"

"You're being dramatic."

"Am not."

Gladstone was quiet for a moment before releasing in Donald's humble opinion, an overly long sigh.

"You don't _get_ it D-Man. _You_ may get to walk around looking like a fashion disaster, but _I've _got a reputation to uphold."

"As what, the most insufferable drake around? Trust me; you have that down pat, no updated look necessary."

To Donald's surprise, his cousin didn't react in the slightest to the jab. No annoyed scoffing. No snappy retort. Not even an eye roll.

God help him, Gladstone was serious about keeping a stupid _**mohawk**_.

"Look." he finally sighed, "I stand by what I said about that being the dumbest hair style you could have picked, but, if anybody could pull it off, it's you."

"Do you really mean that?"

"Uggggggh don't make me repeat that."

To his slight annoyance, a familiar smirk was making itself comfortable on his cousin's face.

"Or what? You'll pop from being oh so complementary to me?"

Donald snorted. "Yeah. That's the reason."

"So the options are either you give me another compliment or you pop from the effort?" Gladstone's smirk widened. "Sounds like a win-win to me!"

At that comment, Donald tipped the chair his cousin was sitting in far and quick enough for him to faceplant on the floor with a satisfying 'thunk' sound.

"Oh I could _never _do that Gladdy," Donald poured as much syrupy sweetness into his voice as he could "I don't think Duckburg would survive the growth from your already oversized ego."

"Oh I dunno Don, the city hasn't fallen into ruin thanks to your tantrums yet. I think a _little_ more 'ego' is the preferred option at this point."

"That's it. Visit's over. Get out of my house."

Gladstone threw Donald his best pitiful 'I'm-so-hurt' look. "Aww already? We were _just _getting along Big D!"

It _might_ have worked. Donald was notoriously weak for pity filled looks from his family. But, Gladstone could barely hold back his smug amusement at his cousin's faltering annoyance. Which of course, broke the whole facade.

Donald's expression hardened, (he would deny there'd been anything other than irritation at his cousin in it) and Gladstone soon found himself outside with a slammed door behind him.

Shrugging, he stepped off the houseboat and headed towards Duckburg or wherever his luck would lead him.

He'd gotten what he'd wanted as well a rather decent visit with Donald. The day was off to a wonderful start if he did say so himself.


	3. Avoiding Negativity like a Pro

Four years.

Four. Long. Years.

At the bottom of the ocean, you miss a lot of things. Especially if no one ever returns your calls.

It hurts. It hurts so much that your family doesn't seem to c-

You can't help gripping the bathroom sink so tight your knuckles feel like they're going to snap.

It's _fine_. They're just busy. Uncle Scrooge travels so much so of _course_ he doesn't answer. You probably_ just_ miss each other.

And you know Donald would answer your calls. He just... doesn't have your number. Scrooge probably didn't give it to him since he and Donald aren't on speaking terms. And, and calls from the ocean have to be _killer _on the phone bill. So Scrooge is just...doing Donald a favor. Not sharing your number with him.

Your grip on the sink loosens a bit as you remember the voices of Donald's kids on the other end. How excited they sounded to meet_ you_, Fethry Duck, the cr-_**eccentric**_ member of the Duck family.

Surely that means Donald told them how _cool_ and_ fun_ you are. They, they wouldn't want to come out to the middle of the ocean if they _didn't_ like you right?

And, they said _Cousin_ Fethry on the line. Which means of _course_ they think you're fun. 'Uncle' is a term for parental, uncool, older relatives. Which is why they said cousin. Cuz you're cool. The coolest. You see cool stuff everyday! Donald's kids are going to _love_ touring the empty sea lab and meeting your totally awesome team and seeing your amazing discovery.

You take a deep breath and straighten your hat. Donald's kids are going to be arriving any moment now and you only make a first impression once.

It's got to be a good one. You can't afford to chase off anymore family with your eccentricities.

N-Not that you have. They're just busy. Super busy. They'd visit if they could.

Family never leaves family after all.


	4. Flyby

[Based off of this tumblr post: post/185485860873/sup-these-are-3am-thoughts-but-whatevs-okay-so]

* * *

"-Scrooge actually bought a ticket full price to send Uncle Donald on this cruise."

"Wow. Uncle McMoneyBags actually did that? Didn't think he had it in him."

"Yeah. But Uncle Donald really needed it. I-We've never seen him look so...defeated. It was kinda bad. He was even molting from the stress. I didn't even know that was possible!"

Gladstone gave a small hum at that as he made himself more comfortable against the ship's railing. He felt bad for his cousin. He really did. The last time he'd gotten all gross and bald looking was shortly after Della disappeared and he hadn't taken care of himself _at all_.

So it was good he was taking a lil vacay before things got that bad again.

"Like I said, we figured this 'Relaxation Cruise' on, I think the ship's name was 'The Happy Koi'? Something like that, would help."

The rest of Louie's comment faded to static as the railing behind Gladstone suddenly dug sharply into his back.

"...Uncle Gladstone? You still there?"

He gave a small flinch before forcing a cool, collected calm into his voice that he absolutely did not feel.

"I uh. Yeah. Actually Lue, I'm going to have to call you back. One of the cruise coordinator's heading over and they're pretty strict over the whole 'no phones' thing. Tell the rest of the fam I said hi."

"Sure thing. Have fun on your cruise."

Gladstone forced out a laugh. "Will do Green Bean. You know me, Fun's my middle name!"

There was a snort from the other end of the line and then the short merciful 'click' sound of a call being ended.

On his end, Gladstone stared blankly at his cell before frowning as he shoved it into a pocket. He was being ridiculous.

He'd only been on board for a couple of days now and it was a big cruise ship. It was probably no big deal he hadn't run into Donald yet. Chances were his cousin was conked out getting some much needed rest. And. Since he knew Donald was on the same cruise as him, he'd probably run into him sooner or later.

He always did. So. There was nothing to worry about.

Except...

The first day after the call came and went, he didn't run into Donald.

Which was weird but it was a big ship. They could just be missing each other.

Another three days pass and Gladstone has run into every single person on the cruise line, with not a single repeat encounter on any of the four days he'd actively been looking for Donald. Anyone else would have put it down to them just barely missing each other by chance but _his_ luck didn't work that way.

If he wanted to find someone, he did! If he needed tools like say a notebook to keep count of how many people he met and how many people were supposed to be there then by god he found a stupid notebook to keep track!

By the end of the week, he finds himself tripping over a rather large book. A quick page through of the volume reveals it to be a guest check-in. The very same he himself had signed not even two weeks ago.

Eagerly, Gladstone turned the ledger to the 'D's, scanned for his cousin's name and found the spot that should have marked Donald as being present was...blank.

Donald. Donald had never even checked in.

"Oh hey! You found the ship's sign in! Plum fell out of the top suite there; been lookin' everywhere for it."

For once in his life, Gladstone does not voluntarily return a lost item. Instead, he holds onto the book with a death grip and ignores the crew member's expression of annoyed confusion.

"I think. I think there's been some sort of mistake." Gladstone's voice is far too stiff for his liking but the chances of him getting it under control is extremely unlikely, even with his absurdly stupid good luck. "There isn't a signature or check signifying my friend got on."

The crew member manages to free the book from Gladstone's grasp and scans the page. "That's because they didn't."

Something cold spreads through him. It's dread. He knows its dread; it's just like when he first got news about-.

Forcefully, _harshly_ Gladstone pulls his mind away from that train of thought. He needs to focus on the _now_, not something that happened ten years ago.

Ignoring the rapidly growing ball of nerves in his chest, Gladstone pushes on, forcing his voice to remain steady.

"But they should be here. We _did_ stop at Duckburg right?"

"We did. No one got on though." His poker face must have slipped because the crew member gives him a small shrug and reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it. You wouldn't believe how often folks miss us. It happens. I'm sure your buddy's fine. Relax, enjoy the cruise, give 'im a call when you get off. I bet he'll have a hilarious story about missing the boat."

Gladstone forces out a laugh that (thanks to his luck) doesn't sound too fake and heads towards his cabin to make a phone call.

While concerned over the fact that Donald never got on board the ship, he tries not to let worry swamp him.

His cousin while unlucky, is one of the most resilient and dependable people he knows. Donald wouldn't just up and _leave_.

He's probably...fine.

Camping out somewhere. Relaxing.

Not telling his kids there'd been a change in his vacation plans.

Letting them think he's on a cruise ship.

With a surprising lack of coordination on his part, (a rare occurrence for him) Gladstone fumbles with his cell as he dials Donald's number.

_"We're sorry; the number you are trying to reach is currently out of service. Please try again later."_

Gladstone frowns as he hangs up.

He doesn't _get_ automated messages. He _always_ gets through to whoever he's calling first try.

Maybe it's just. A fluke. Donald will pick up on the next try.

_"We're sorry; the number you are trying to reach is currently out of service. Please try again-"_

_"We're sorry; the number you are trying to reach is currently out-"_

_"We're sorry; the number you are trying to reach-"_

_"We're sorry-"_

It's only once his cell battery dies that Gladstone stops calling what is basically a dead number.

He doesn't know how many calls he's attempted, the result is the same.

Donald Duck is not answering his phone.

Something that has never, in the past ten years he's known him, happened.

It's with a numb certainly, Gladstone knows, Something is Wrong.

The next day 'The Happy Koi' makes a surprise emergency stop at a port for supplies.

One guest departs the ship early and luckily, finds a small plane heading for Duckberg that doesn't mind an extra passenger.

Almost nervously, Gladstone stares up at the gates of McDuck Manor.

He won't lie. It's a feeling he's not used to. With fortune smiling down on him every second of every day, it's almost laughable _not_ to go through life without a care or worry.

But here he is, standing outside a mansion he hasn't stepped foot in for years with the intent to tell Scrooge that Something has Happened to Donald.

Even as he presses the buzzer to be let in, he's hoping that Donald will appear any second, safe and sound. Or that the family already knows and is doing something about it. Anything that doesn't mean he has to be an actual adult with some semblance of responsibility for once in his life.

The gates open without a crack of static from the speaker demanding to know who's there and for a moment, as he walks up the winding driveway, Gladstone clings to the hope that his easy passage means Donald's okay. That maybe he just came home early.

Because surely, there'd be more of a fuss over visitors if something was Wrong right?

By the time he reaches the manor door, he's almost convinced himself that he just got worked up over nothing. Donald and the family are just pulling a prank to get him off the cruise and make him spend some time with them that doesn't involve a nightmare inducing stay in a casino with a luck vampire.

He doesn't even need to wait after knocking for the door to open with Della on the other side, shooting him a sly grin, eyes alight with mischief as she leans against the door frame.

"Well hey there Gladdy. I feel like we haven't seen each other in years!"

Gladstone's mind screeches to a halt.

Della's expression falters a bit. "Too soon? Yeah, you're right, it's uh way too soon for jokes bout that. But uh hey! Guess who's back!"

Gladstone can't help but stare at her blankly before bending over laughing. "Of course. Why else wouldn't D-Money answer his phone? How long. How long have you two been planning this? A week? Very funny."

Della frowns at him. "I haven't seen Donald since I came back. The kids said he was on a cruise."

And just like that, the cold worry is back and all joy and stunned disbelief at Della's miraculous return is gone.

"Della. I need to talk to Uncle Scrooge."

For reasons Gladstone can't even begin to figure out, Scrooge decides they should check around the outskirts of Duckberg first which then leads Della wanting to show off the rocket she crashed, rebuilt and then crashed again 'since it's in the area'.

Only, it's not there.

As everyone else marvels over the mystery of where Della's accursed rocket disappeared off to, something in Gladstone's gut pulls him past the tree line. Never one to ignore a feeling, no matter how big or small, he follows it past tree after tree until he reaches a small semblance of civilization in the form of a bus stop.

At first, Gladstone can't help feeling baffled on why he would be led here. There's nothing impressive about the bench or even the location (who in their right mind would put a bus stop near the woods?) He's ready to turn back and rejoin his family when he spots something that makes his blood turn cold.

Right next to the bench, at the very end, half covered in dirt and on its side as if the owner had knocked it over in a fit of excitement, was a set of very familiar luggage.

Feeling almost as if he was made of ice, Gladstone stiffly made his way closer to better examine the forgotten bags. Hoping that maybe, just this once, his memory was faulty. That he wasn't seeing a tacky suitcase he'd seen a million times shoved in a closet, or under a bed, or up against a cramped 'captain' quarters' wall in a too small boat.

Gently, he runs his fingers over the top of the bag and brushes the dirt off of the top of a small, metal label on the front.

'Donald Duck' it reads and Gladstone's heart plummets.

He wasn't smart like Scrooge or Dells or even Donald. But even he could put together the ugly picture painted by some abandoned luggage and a missing rocket.

Just like before, he was short one cousin.

Sighing, Gladstone straightened Donald's bags, (silently promising to come back for them later) and slowly headed back to the crash site to have a private word with Scrooge.

Hopefully the old duck would know what to do, what to say to the others (Donald's _kids_) without causing too much stress.

With luck, it wouldn't take another decade for their family to be 100% whole again.


End file.
